Whiskey Witches by F.J. Blooding (mobile ebook reader txt) 📕

What had Paige gotten herself in the middle of? She rolled over onto all fours and nearly wished she hadn’t. Everything hurt. She’d gotten her ass handed to her. For what? She was no closer to gaining control of the key. Sure. She had a few less demons on the playground, but what had that bought her?

Nothing.

Sven escaped. Again.

Mike Jones was nowhere.

And that damned key was still missing.

Roxxie lay on the ground, her pink hair splayed along the pale dirt.

Paige crawled to her, gravel digging into her already healing skin. “Roxxie.”

The angel didn’t stir.

Paige couldn’t see anything wrong. She checked for a pulse at the angel’s wrist. Did they even have a pulse? Roxxie’s chest rose and fell. Still breathing. No blood. What else could it be?

Well, she’d been Paige’s shield. If Paige felt as if she’d been sucker punched by a Mack truck, it could be Roxxie had taken a large chunk of that blow instead. Maybe she needed rest, sleep. Whatever angels did. She picked up the angel’s head and cradled it in her lap, leaning against the tire of the car behind her.

Men and women picked themselves off the ground around the junkyard.

“How did we get here?” one woman asked, massaging her arm.

A man gripped his head with both hands, spinning in a small circle, his eyes wide. “What happened?”

“What’s going on?” Another man asked, tugging at his pants as though seeing something odd. What that was, Paige had no idea. “Why am I at the junkyard?”

“Demons.”

A middle-aged woman looked at the man who’d spoken.

He turned to Paige, his blue t-shirt bunched around his waist. “What do we do?”

Paige didn’t know. If only she could protect them. Even with an angel to shield her, Sven had still won without breaking a sweat. That was a lie, but the damned demon had walked away while she lay panting on the ground like a dying dog. “Go to church. It doesn’t matter which one. Choose one and stay there.”

Xael stepped through the crowd. People made way for him without looking directly at him, as though they couldn’t see him, or as if acknowledging is presence was wrong.

“Watch out for each other.” Church really couldn’t help them, but it couldn’t hurt either. “Any of you can be possessed at any point of time. This is not a witch hunt, people. If you suspect someone has been possessed by a demon…” Paige stopped. She needed a real plan. These people needed a real plan, and she just didn’t have one.

“Then you let me know.” Brian limped into view. “Gather everyone in our parish. Bring them to church.” He glanced at Paige. “Leave no one behind.”

Everyone hurried off, pulling out their cell phones.

“What are we supposed to do with the possessed?” Brian asked softly.

“I’ll—” Paige let her head fall back to the car behind her, her eyes heavy with fatigue. She had no clue. “I’ll think of something.” Somehow.

“Mike’s not here,” Brian said.

The whole point of going to the junkyard had been to get Mike Jones and that damned key. Mike Jones. The angel. And the broken key that didn’t seem to work anyway. How did she even know the gate had been opened with the key? What if it had something to do with what Sven had done instead?

“What did that man say to you, Detective?”

Paige met Brian’s gaze. “What man?”

“The blonde.”

“Oh.” How had it completely slipped her mind that Brian hadn’t actually seen Sven yet. “That’s Sven, the demon.”

“The mastermind.”

“I had thought so.” But maybe he still was. Maybe she wasn’t seeing everything.

The evidence had led her there.

To a junkyard filled with demon-possessed humans protecting an angel with a broken key to the Gate of Hell.

No. That really didn’t make sense. Did it?

She’d discovered a lot in the past couple of days.

What and how did it change the evidence?

Sven. He was…courting her. Courting her through her field—as a homicide detective and as a Whiskey witch. Had he been sending her secret messages all along?

Like the ones on the bodies?

Or perhaps, he’d only had to resort to that because she’d missed the other messages he’d left her.

Brian’s face entered her field of vision as he knelt beside her. “What did he say, Paige?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Peanut.” Balnore appeared at her elbow, but didn’t touch.

She jerked in surprise. “Hey, Bal.”

“What do you need me to do?” All business then.

She had no clue. They were drowning and she had no idea how to fight this. How to get the key. How to get out of town. How to keep the gate closed. How to end Sven. How to contain Mike Jones. “Go to Dexx. I need to know how bad the damage is.”

Balnore nodded and dispersed.

“Paige.” Brian captured her attention.

She waved him off. “Protect your parish, Brian. I’m trying to piece things together, but I don’t have any answers right now. As soon as I do, I’ll come find you.”

He narrowed his eyes, but then nodded and rose.

What was the next move? The real game?

Where was Lucius? Lucius. How the hell did he play into all this? Why weren’t the pieces coming together?

She was asking the wrong questions.

Goddammit. What had Sven said?

Xael cleared his throat.

He was still there? “What do you want?”

“Why did you not ask for my help?” Xael leaned his elbow on his knee. “Why do you insist on making things harder for yourself?”

Did he seriously just ask that? With everything going on, that’s the question he asked? “All I want to do right now is punch you in the face.”

“I can see that.” His expression showed no emotion.

The son of a bitch was a fucking angel. Maybe he was so disconnected from the real world to comprehend what the fuck he’d done. “Do you realize what it’s like when you use my gift for me? You reached inside. You took over. You fucking possessed me after I’ve already been possessed by a demon.”

“While I’m in control, you’re safe.”

Safe? He had a loose definition of the word. “I’m safe with me in control. All I need is a shield. I nearly had him. Without you.”

He took in a slow, deep breath, his eyebrow raised. “You did surprise me today.”

“Surprised you. Oh my god. Surprised you?” That egotistical son of a bitch. “Do you know where Sven is?”

The angel shook his head. “How do you plan on dealing with this half-demon?”

“Not with your help.”

The angel flattened his lips and sighed.

She needed him out of there so she could think. “What can you tell me about Mike Jones?”

He thought for a silent moment. “Nothing.”

“Is it possible he’s an angel?”

“He is, though what his mission is, and who he’s working for, I don’t know.”

“And that doesn’t strike you as odd.”

“Do you know everyone on your police force? Do you know all the officers? All the sergeants?”

The Denver police force was a large operation. Not quite as large as the angel population, she was sure, but she understood his point. “No. I don’t.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded once.

“Is Roxxie okay?” Her head lay on Paige’s arm in such a way it cut off the blood circulation to her hand.

“I must take her to be healed.”

“Where will you take her?”

“Some things are best kept secret.” He gripped Paige’s shoulders.

Tepid warmth enveloped her. A chill seeped from her bones, getting worse.

The angel bent his head, his neck muscles straining.

Paige took in one breath, then two and slowly began to feel minutely better.

Xael fell back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at her. “That is the best I can do.”

She shrugged, feeling better. Not one hundred percent, but better. That had to count for something.

Xael gathered Roxxie in his arms and disappeared in a blinding flash of angel light and a storm of flying dirt.

Paige let herself sit there a moment longer. What had Sven said? She didn’t know him. Chaos for the sake of chaos or something. So he had something planned, something specific.